


His Soul, Descends

by HisaHiru



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Jupiter Ascending AU, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Science Fiction, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3937027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisaHiru/pseuds/HisaHiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers spent his whole life knowing things wouldn't just get better, wanting nothing but to at least give his mother an easier life. He underestimated his worth, but when the world suddenly revolved around him he got no other choice but to change his mind.<br/>His life would be different, whether he wanted it or died denying it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Soul, Descends

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working at this for quite a while. This is a Jupiter Ascending AU, so you'll find most part of the story quite similar to the said movie. I'm no quite sure I've done a good job but here it is... You don't have to watch the movie first to understand anything, though. The plot follows the movie but I've made slight-... quite a lot of changes (you know, since Jupiter is a girl and Steve is a boy and other characters just can't fit the role otherwise...?)
> 
> AGAIN, a special thanks to Blanchezy for beta-ing this fic and encouraging me to post this (she's a huge help, because really, I'm a total mess). There will be lots of plot-hole and mistake but please, try to enjoy the story for what its worth... please?  
> I'll add more tags and characters as the story goes; maybe changes the rating or archive warnings... who knows?

In all his life, Steve had always known he was different, but somehow not in a good way. He was a frequent visitor of the hospital since young age and medication had been his friend for times longer than all of his schoolmates. He spent most of his time fighting for his life against various kind of virus while kids his age roam around the street for fun and things. His classmates often called him by Puny Steve, a nickname he got for his tiny and somehow frail figure, and treated him different.

As if it wasn’t enough, the lack of a father figure in his family just made things even harder. His mother had to work extra hard to cover his tuition and daily expense, from his food and medication. Because his relatives could only spare so much for him alone… That was one of many reasons why Steve decided to start working right after his high school graduation, if only to lessen the burden on his mother’s shoulder.

He didn’t blame his father for not being there through his worst, to at least hold his mother’s hand when she was crying helplessly. He knew he would be there if he could… or at least that was the impression he got from all those stories his mother told him before she tucked him to sleep.

Steve could replay the tale inside his head over and over without missing a beat. He remembered the bright glitter inside his mother’s eyes every time she described that very first moment of their meeting, the spark that had exploded beautifully and just wouldn’t die up to this very day. Beneath the starry sky in an Ireland winter night, his mother, Sarah, met the true love of her life.

Joseph Rogers was an ex-marine. His mother often described him as a hotheaded and stubborn man, but he was a loving husband no less. Sarah told him about the moment when Joseph proposed her, despite the objection of her family due to his work history and background check, with a stay tear rolled down her cheek. Between the stories of their modest marriage life, Steve often had a feeling that there was something Sarah had left out but he didn’t probe for answer, respecting her choice to keep some things for herself.

According to his mother, his father passed away just a couple weeks before his birth. It was a summer night and everything happened so fast. One moment they were cuddling on the couch, talking about their future and soon-to-be-born child. The very next moment, a group of drunken robbers broke into their apartment and took what little they had. Joseph stood up, trying to protect his family, only to be shot down in front of Sarah’s eyes.

Steve often had to lean toward his mother and rubbed a comforting circle around Sarah’s back as she sobbed softly through the hard part of the story.

Sarah and her relatives moved out of Ireland not long after and Steve was born in America, a week after they arrived. There was no doctor, no nurses; only her family stood vigilant to help her bring her baby to the living world. She named her first born, and only, son Steven per Joseph’s request, wishing him power to stand strong against all odds and victory in all his battle through his winding life.

Sometimes Steve let out a bitter laugh; thinking about how much regret his father would have seeing him losing to himself as his illness often made him knelt.

“Steven, wake up,” he heard his mother’s gentle whisper on his ear, feeling her warm breath ticked his lobe. “It’s morning already.”

“M’kay…” Steve mumbled, fighting the doziness that refused to let him go every morning. He took a glance at the clock that sat on the nightstand. It was ten past four in the morning; he had wasted ten minutes already and he couldn’t afford to lose more. “I’m awake.”

“Go take a shower and get ready, okay?” Sarah smiled and brushed his hair with her fingers. Steve fought the irresistible urge to lean into the touch and smiled back. “We’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast then we’re going.”

Steve gave her a thumb up and pushed the blanket off his body as his mother walked out of his room. He took one last look at his bed, inviting and so damn welcoming. What he wouldn’t give for another hour of sleep. But he knew he couldn’t act so egoistic when his mother needed him. He knew well that if he said he was feeling unwell his mother would shove him back to bed and force herself to take Steve’s part of the job; he couldn’t afford to have that.

Not with how tired his mother looked these days.

With heavy steps, he fetched his towel and clean clothes from the drawer and went to the bathroom. The warm water brought him closer to consciousness but did so little to ease the tenseness of his muscle. It took time to work the magic but Steve was racing against time right now, he didn’t have the luxury to lazy around and wait until the phantom knots loosened. He made a mental note to find a better sleeping position tonight as he scrubbed the reminder of dream off his body then toweled himself dry.

When he finished with his shower, Steve went back to his room to grab some things he needed. He noticed the way his bed dipped low even without him laying on it; clearly notifying him that it was time to look for a new mattress. He could see how the springs trying to jut out through the cover in a couple places; no wonder his back felt like hell lately. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if his mother’s bed had suffered the same fate.

As Steve proceeded down the stairs, he could hear familiar voices talking. He saw his mother sitting close to his aunt, chatting about something Steve guessed was the work they had to do today and other daily chores. Steve took a bowl and filled it with the leftover stew from yesterday’s dinner his mother had heated-up. The taste wasn’t exactly good; yesterday was his uncle’s turn to cook and it wasn't his best forte, to put it lightly. But Steve wouldn’t complain; he knew how to be grateful for what he had.

“Eat your breakfast, Steven,” Sarah gathered the bowls she and Steve’s aunt, Louise, used and put it in the sink.

“Mom, I’ll do the dishes,” Steve jumped out of his seat with his half empty bowl and rushed toward the sink, gently pushing his mother out of the way. “It’s okay, leave it to me.”

“You haven’t finished your breakfast.”

“I’m not really hungry,” and the food didn’t taste that great, which had drained his appetite from the very first bite.

Sarah shook her head in disagreement. Steve knew where this was going. “You said that too before and you have good Sam carrying you back when you fainted,” she sighed, putting her hand on her hips to show her displeasure.

Steve groaned; that was one embarrassing moment in his life he didn’t want to remember. Sam didn’t live it down for three whole months and Steve had had enough of it to last a lifetime. “That was one time, Mom. And I didn’t feel all that well that day, remember?”

Louise laughed out loud; she wasn’t the one to stifle a giggle and preferred to show the full content of her emotion. “Listen to your mother, Steven. You gotta eat to fill that bony arms of yours; no girls want to cuddle with a damn twig,” she grinned playfully.

That was a low blow but she made a point. Though his aunt kind of missed far from home at the mention of a certain gender. Steve rolled his eyes and his mother chuckled. He had made it clear about his preference and sexuality and they had been through past the hesitancy stage. His mother was shocked at first, didn’t know how to take everything, especially with how his uncle and cousin had reacted. But in the end, she accepted Steve for what he was and politely asked his nosy relatives to fuck off, gently of course.

It took only half a day; that was got to be some kind of record for a mother who had never expected his son to come out as a gay.

“Just try to eat some more,” his mother scooped the stew with his spoon and pushed it closer toward his lips. “Just a little more?”

“… Okay,” Steve opened his mouth half-heartedly and swallowed down his breakfast. He took another spoonful of stew and drove it into his mouth. “There, I’m full now,” he put his bowl down the sink; trying to ignore the worried look his mother casted upon him. “Now I’ll do the dishes, go sit with Aunt Louise and talk some more.”

“Steve-…”

“Nah, let it go, Sarah. You know him, he’s as stubborn as a mule,” Louise waved her hand, signaling her sister to come and sit next to her. Sarah gave up and decided to go with the flow, resurrecting the conversation he had with Louise not long ago.

Steve turned the water on and washed the bowls. He stole a glance over the stove and saw the stew filled pot. It was enough for at least five more people; his uncle, his wife and his son. There were only three people left in this house sleeping their dawn away. Which meant there was no reason for Sarah to hold back on her food. Steve had seen how much his mother had taken for her breakfast and he got to say the amount was frighteningly small. She ate even less that what Steve had the morning of the day he had Sam playing prince.

And she still got the time to worry about Steve’s meal.

The thought made Steve’s heart throb.

In an unpleasant way.

When Steve finished doing the dishes, that meant their morning had truly begun. Louise skidded out of the dining room and went to grab the keys. They usually went to work using an old truck his uncle used to ride before he bought a better car. It obviously needed a repaint but the engine worked just fine. Steve had thought about getting a driving license but he hadn’t found the time to take the test just yet.

They followed the usual pattern and split the jobs to fasten things up. And Steve got to say… He hated his job. Aside from the fact that working as maid wasn’t exactly his childhood dream, spending his time scrubbing the toilet seat and cleaning people’s room with minimum paycheck sometimes felt like an insult. He had tried to look for a better job but his effort was gone in vain. Not a lot of places wanted to hire an employees with no college degree, and the one who did always had a second thought when they heard about his medical history.

Having asthma made things harder for him more than it should.

“Steven, you finished there?!” Louise voice caught him off guard and almost made him bang his head down the porcelain toilet seat. Having his blood splattered all over the floor would put all his previous effort to waste; that was a big no-no.

“Not yet!” Steve yelled back. He still had to clean the tub and the sink. He winched when he saw the familiar white stain on the surface of the tub. Looked like someone had a fun work out this morning, much to his frustration. They should at least wash the evidence down the drain, for crying out loud.

“Make it snappy, Hon! We don’t have all day!”

“Okay-… Give me a minute!”

He couldn’t even scrub the toilet in peace. This was another reason he hated his job. Why couldn’t he do things at his own pace for just one moment? He practically had to live by his uncle rule at home, and that mean no time for lazing around. His life was being bound by time at work, having to move from one place to another just to put that dirty laundry into the washing machine. Clearly that was something anyone with a hand could do; but they still had to pay for someone to do it for them. Those rich people…

God, his life sucks.

“I hate my life…” Steve grumbled as he picked a sock from the floor. It was still clean so there was no reason to pour detergent on it. He still had to look for the other one, though.

“Nah, that’s understandable,” his employee, Sam Wilson, slapped his back in a friendly gesture with a playful grin. “Your life sucks,” he said as he plucked the sock of Steve’s hand and throw it into his wardrobe.

“What’re you doing here anyway, Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be working or something?” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes as he slid his fingers down the windowsill. There was no dust whatsoever on it. “What am I doing here anyway?” the whole apartment was a perfect picture of a tidy living quarter.

Sam whistled, ignoring the sarcasm that was dripping off Steve’s tongue. He grabbed Steve by his shoulder and brought him down as he threw himself into the bed. “You’re here to take it easy, Rogers,” Sam said and ruffled Steve’s hair. “When was the last time you sleep easy at night? You look like hell, Wire-boy.”

Steve slapped Sam’s hand away playfully but he made no move to get out of the bed. The mattress was just too damn soft and comfortable he could settle down there and never move an inch. “I dunno, last week maybe,” he stared at the ceiling. “I’m at work, Wilson, and I’m wasting my time here.”

Sam didn’t take his words as an offence. “You’ll still get paid, don’t worry,” Steve sometimes wondered if Sam just never took anything seriously or he was born with unlimited patience. Because really, both of it sounded ridiculously amazing. “You need time to rest, Steve, seriously. When was the last time you just sit back, relaxing, and draw something?”

That gave Steve something to think about. He hadn’t touched his sketchbook for a long time; since around the time he decided to just throw his high school certificate away and focused on helping his mother with her job. Which meant around six months ago. “Don’t remember,” he muttered quietly.

His employee gave him a knowing look and fished something from under his bed. He pulled out a sketchbook and shoved it into Steve’s hand together with a pencil and an eraser. “There, why don’t you draw something? You still have time. Well… that or you can just try to take a nap or something?”

“I’m busy, Sam.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam grinned and flicked Steve’s nose, harvesting a yelp from the blond. “C’mon, Steve. You look so stressed these days, try to loosen up a little. You ma is worried.”

“She is?” Steve’s eyebrows went up straight to his hairline. “She shouldn’t have… She looks worse than me, like she’s always tired. Have you seen her?”

“I have,” Sam let out another sigh, like knew what Steve was talking about. “She looks kinda pale lately… Which is why I helped Mrs. Monroe cleaning her apartment this morning before your mom arrived.”

The statement caused Steve to push himself up and balance himself with his elbow. “What? You mean-…”

Sam’s grin went even wider, as if it was possible. He tackled Steve’s elbow, causing the young man to gasp and fell into the bed with a soft thump. “Both of you could use a little break,” he pinched Steve’s nose with a happy laugh as Steve flailed. “Relax and take it slow, Puny.”

Steve took a deep breath when Sam released him. Relief washed over him as he hugged the sketchbook on front of his chest and just watched the ceiling tile with so much interest. “Thanks,” he muttered, smile growing on his face as he noticed Sam doing the same. He still didn’t believe his luck for having Sam as one of his employee. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” Sam turned his head a bit to get a better look at Steve. “Somebody gotta make sure you stay alive, Rogers.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve laughed and pressed his fist on Sam’s shoulder. “On your left, Wilson,” he grinned and squeezed the book closer to his chest. “I’m so not giving this back.”

“Save your breath, Boney. Don’t want you to reach for your inhaler from talking too much,” Sam returned the gesture by touching Steve’s shoulder with his knuckle. “On your right.”

 

0oOo0

 

The very planet he was standing on was once a very lustrous place with a nostalgic sense of beauty; but now it was no different from the other barren land he had harvested. There was not even a sound of flowing water through the river, as the very last drip had dried up long ago. The trees stopped growing and wilted; the colorful leaves turned brown and rained down upon the ground to rot. It was so quiet, a painful reminder of what this world had lost.

But for Tony Stark, it was a true unspeakable beauty.

He was not a man of art; he was more into the cold hard truth and obedient machines. He cared little for what mother nature had to say, as long as his hand could keep making things that worked. And to reach the point of satisfaction in his inventor life, some things had to be sacrificed.

Like this now nameless planet, for example.

This one was not the first planet he had turned into a mere dimensional decoration. But he had to say that this planet, by far, was one of the easiest to harvest. The residents at least knew it was a war that couldn’t be won and the surrendered; which unfortunately for them only lead them to their demise. Tony remembered everything clearly as if the very event was happened not a day ago; the memory still fresh for countless replay.

“This is so like you, Stark,” a woman’s voice pulled him out of his own thought. Tony tilted his head sideways, welcoming the familiar guest with minimal gesture. “Not a single sign of struggle.”

“What can I say, Natasha?” Tony smirked, spreading his hand around dignifiedly. “I’m a master of all trades, and persuasion is one of them.”

“You mean you hit them hard when they were least ready for it,” Natasha Romanoff responded with a cold stare, face lack with emotion. That was the way she was, never let his face giving the slightest hint of what she felt.

“Why, let’s just say I know where to hit.”

“If you say so,” Natasha nodded and accepted the hand Tony offered to her with no purpose but acknowledgment.

Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff were born from one mother but two different fathers. Being the only female child of the four siblings, Natasha shared most of their mother’s trait as well as some of her distinguished look. And yet, despite their similar appearance, both of them were also quite different. They often quarreled for the simplest thing, but Tony guessed that was the way them girls showed that they cared. Or maybe they were just tired of pretending all the times.

“How’s it going with your… work?” Natasha struck a conversation, the scent of bitterness lingered on her tongue as she spoke. She clearly had no interest on the topic but the tense cold atmosphere had to be broken sooner or later.

“Same old,” Tony replied as they strolled upon a bridge which now served no purpose. It was no secret that Tony Stark was the sole successor of the Stark Industry, which supplied war machines and weapons throughout the galaxy. His ideas and brilliant inventions far surpassed what his father had dreamed of, giving him uncountable amount of wealth and fame that bestowed upon him more than popularity. People sought him out day after day either to search for a better chance to win in their own war or to erase him for eternity.

Erase him… Huh.

Sadly they had never got chance. They should have known whom they were messing with. Facing him with the creation he brought to life by his own hands was a bold move, and absolutely ridiculous at that. He was a man of science, a genius, a living legend whose mind never took a break from thinking and tinkering. While he was a mortal being gifted with emotions and free will, his creations were not.

They were ruthless, emotionless and they showed no hesitation to obey his very command. Which was the reason most of his enemies met their end without a chance to regret their foolishness. It was a quick death; Tony was not a total psychopath with no empathy to begin with, but they had it coming for biting more than they could chew. It was the kindest thing he could spare for those ungrateful lesser beings.

Playing with his prey wasn’t exactly his taste…

Unlike his so-called half brother.

His relationship with Natasha wasn’t the best picture of a perfect family people could find, but Loki Laufeyson took the cake, no competition. His personality somehow matched Tony really well, but that was what made them despise each other. Loki was cunning and clever; he was a real manifestation of a Trickster. He loved reeling people up and played with their emotion, puling them closer to him and forcing them to kneel willingly without them realizing it.

Living together for centuries had taught Tony things about his siblings. Loki was different from Tony, Natasha and his late youngest brother; he had always been different. While their mother had never treat any of them differently, aside from a subtle favoritism for a certain son whose name should not be spelled for his current non-existence, he noticed a certain level of cautiousness and distance his mother had casted upon her oldest son. Natasha had mentioned about Loki’s father’s origins ages ago, about him being one of the ancient Jotun race that was rumored to be the closest race to reach extinction at the moment.

Jotun was known as a cruel race that lived to conquer and destroy those who resisted. They lived and built their civilization on top of their enemies’ crushed skulls, moving on to the next target when the source had been depleted. They were a hushed up name all across the galaxy, at least until the Ragnarok tore everything apart and Asgardians won the war, cutting the Jotun’s number dangerously close to nothing. Those who survived scattered and hid, disappearing without any trace behind to track.

Their mother, the Abrasax Queen of the Universe, felt sorry for them and wanted to give them a second chance by taking the hand of a Jotun in marriage. They were being blessed by a birth of a son years before the nature of the said Jotun took hold of him, forcing the whole kingdom of Abrasax to take action and put him down. Maybe that was why his mother had always kept a hand on Loki, to at least make sure he didn’t share the same fate as his late father. How pitiful…

“It sadden me, brother and sister, that you didn’t spare the time to invite me for this little stroll in the park,” an intangible voice echoed in the air before a lean figure appeared out of nowhere.

“Loki,” Natasha lifted her arm and let Lokikiss the back of her palm, expression never changing for the slightest second.

“A pleasure to see you, Sister,” Loki smiled; a smile of a joker with a knife ready to backstab you when you turn around. “And you as well, Brother,” he nodded toward Tony.

“Tony,” the middle child of the family corrected, raising his hand to stop Loki mid-sentence. “Hearing you call me ‘brother’ gives me shivers, no offense.”

“Of course,” if the word somehow offended him, Loki didn't show it at all. He wore so many masks Tony just couldn’t believe a thing from what he saw of the man himself.

“Enjoy your sleep?” Natasha let the corner of her lips curved up.

Loki’s smile went wider Tony found it disturbing; a man who smiled a lot had nasty secrets in their closet. And Tony had no desire to find out what exactly that was anytime soon. “Why, yes. I do,” he said cheerfully. “It was awfully nice of you to be so concerned, Sister,” Tony noticed how Natasha rolled her eyes at that statement.

Tony cleared up his throat. He hadn’t expected to have Loki appeared before them so soon, in this deserted planet of all place, but he was also clever with his tongue. “I’ve heard the news of your successful harvest in Xandar, the strategy you used back then was magnificent. I’m impressed.”

If there was one thing Tony knew Loki loved the most, it was praise and flattery. Loki’s opponent shared the same knowledge, and yet a whole different notion of the concept. Complimentary would do nothing as much to lower his guard; it would only increase his hunger for a higher achievement and harden his resolution to erase his opponents from the picture once and for all. Those fools often saw him as a narcissistic beast and tried to lure him with rapturous applause only to be eaten by the same monster.

Oh, the irony.

“It was nothing compared to what you’ve accomplished, Tony,” Loki spread his hands to indicate the whole land they were stepping on. “Your performance at your earlier harvest completely blew me away. Exactly what to be expected from a genius.”

“Loki, please cut all the bullshit,” Natasha interrupted; she had had enough of this pointless chitchat. “Why are you here?”

The sudden change on Loki’s face took Tony by surprise; thank God he was a good faker, he managed to hide it right on time before any of his siblings realized. The faintly blowing wind stopped, being replaced by a bone wrenching cold that seeped through every crack of the atmosphere. Loki was no longer in the mood to play around. Tony mentally screamed at Natasha for flipping that switch inside his oldest brother. The conversation had taken a sudden 180o turn and he wasn’t going to like it, from the looks of it.

“Alright, as you wish,” Loki smirked sinisterly; his tone was calm yet deadly venomous at the very edge of his words. His eyes darted to Tony and the genius found himself trying not to take a step back. “Brother Tony,” the green armored man practically hissed. “What is your purpose, exactly?”

“Purpose? What purpose?”

Loki gritted his teeth and summoned a golden scepter; gripping it tightly before pointing the sharp end at Tony. “I think we’re past the point of playing dumb, my dear brother,” he hummed deeply. “I know you’ve been snooping around the old archive of mother’s last will. What do you intend to do?”

Tony fought to keep his cool even though his heart was beating miles per second. “Nothing,” he pushed Loki’s scepter down, feeling much better with one obvious threat stopped blocking his vision. “I just want to learn better of it, nothing else,” and of course he lied, but Loki didn’t have to know that.

The way Loki nursed his expression indicated that he was clearly unimpressed with Tony’s answer. His frown deepened, his brows drew closer on top of his nose bridge. “Do you take me as a fool?” he snarled under his breath. “The heritage had been split and sent to each respective heir, as what had been written in mother’s will. I’m not fond? with the idea of you putting your greasy fingers where it doesn’t belong.”

Natasha huffed but she said nothing. Loki sent her a quick glance and smiled thinly; she never stepped into other’s business and Loki liked her for that. A total opposite of a certain brother of his. “Sharing is caring, or so what people said; though the content is quite different this time,” Tony shrugged and released the breath he had unconsciously been holding for a while.

“I’m not a fan of sharing what’s mine, Tony. You should’ve known.”

“Then it’s not a problem, I think, since the thing I’ve set my eyes on is not rightfully yours to begin with,” Tony muttered ever so clearly Loki’s face hardened from a short jolt of shock. “The only reason you received the hugest part of mother’s inheritance is because of the absence of-…”

Everything happened so fast. One moment Tony was standing on his two feet, and the next second he was hanging with Loki’s hand tightly necklaced around his throat. “Don’t you ever,” he tightened his grip; relishing the choke he drew from his younger brother. “Mention that name in front of me.”

Natasha decided that everything had gone too far and stepped in, taking hold of Loki’s hand and squeezed it. “Let him go, Loki,” she growled, scratching her nails deeply and tearing the pale skin. “That’s enough.”

Loki took his time, waiting until Tony’s life was about to be reaped out of his body, before loosening his fingers and let Tony fell to the ground with a resounding thump. He pressed his tongue over the bleeding wound, licking the ferruginous drop and savored the flavor. “Please forgive me for losing my cool,” he said with no sign of remorse. “That was so uncivilized of me.”

Tony rubbed his sore throat between coughs, taking a mouthful of air to fill his desperately screaming lungs. He stared at Loki in disbelief, but his eyes quickly turned murderous. Loki showed no hesitation in eliminating any possible threat, even if the said danger was his own flesh and blood. This man was a true killer by any other name. Natasha knelt next to Tony and checked the bruise that had started forming over the healthy skin.

“I think it’s time for me to leave,” Loki combed his hair back, fixing the stray stands that went out of control in his brief emotional impulse. He flipped his cape and turned around, halting mid step before sending a cold watchful eyes over his shoulder. “A quick reminder, brother,” he added a certain pressure on the last word. “I’m a very possessive man. What’s mine… will always stay mine.”

And with that, he disappeared leaving only a lingering scent of his arrogance.

“For a genius, you’ve managed to step into a whole new level of idiocy,” Natasha released a frustrated sigh and helped his older brother to stand, balancing him as he tried to regain his composure.

“Like you can talk,” Tony grunted, slapping his palms over his clothed arse and back to get rid of the persistence dust.

“I’m doing what you do, Tony,” Natasha released her hold over Tony’s back and backed away, walking slowly toward the approaching space ship with Romanova emblem printed over the surface. “Only slower and more careful. Your enemy is not a blind man who’ll just take what you can offer willingly, you know him,” she ended the conversation with a curt nod and left Tony all by himself.

Tony kicked the ground beneath him, cursing colorfully with volume barely above a whisper. It was a mistake to let his guard down so easily. He should’ve realized everything wouldn’t be as smooth as he so willingly believed. Loki was a sneaky fox and Tony learnt most of his trick from the man. It was only a matter of time for him to get caught, but he didn’t expect it would happen much sooner than he had predicted.

Sending the signal for his own shuttle, Tony boarded his plane with furrowed brows and silenced every call from his secretary. He didn’t need another mouth to rain him down with exhausting scolds. JARVIS launched him straight to the mother ship, playing his favorite music to calm him down. Tony smiled proudly; he created his AI perfectly after all.

“Tony, where have you been?” Pepper Potts bombed him with the question of the month as he stepped his feet on his beloved ship, her voice tight with worry and a slight twinge of annoyance. A vein ticked on top of Tony’s head.

“It’s Master Stark for you,” he coldly reminded his loyal secretary who just lowered her head in shame and understanding. Of all the employees he had picked to work under him, Pepper was the best decision he had ever made. She was sharp witted and courageous, though she needed a quick reminder of her position here and there every so often. “What’s the situation?”

Pepper nursed herself back to her professional self and faced Tony purely as one of his worker, despite their ambiguous relationship behind the screen. “Mister Heimdall tried to contact you when you’re out, Sir. It appears he was interested in one of your newest invention and was willing to make quite an offer.”

Tony slicked his hair back and let himself being redressed by his servants into his business suit. By suit, he meant a huge golden and red armor with Stark logo presented in the middle of the arc reactor on the chest. “Put him on the line, Pepper,” he ordered, strolling toward his thrones and sat down gracefully.

Working always made him felt better. Now was no different. He would look for a better strategy to stab Loki in the back when he least expected it; it would take time but he was a hard worker. “Heimdall,” Tony whistled, crossing his legs in a relaxed position, as the holographic figure of a man in golden armor appeared before him. The architecture of the throne forced him to look down to lock gaze with his client and Tony loved every second of it.

“Stark,” Heimdall nodded shortly without exaggerating, wasting no time for flatteries and praises.

“It’s been a while since I last heard from you,” Tony smirked, drumming his fingers on the armrests before deciding to intertwine them over his flat stomach. “And here you are, calling me only when you see the need of it. I’m hurt,” he faked a wince but Heimdall didn’t share his sense of joke this time, or ever.

“I apologize for my rudeness but I’m in a serious need of your help, Tony Stark,” the man clenched his fist but loosened them real soon. “My world, Asgard, is in danger and your invention is the only hope we have to win this war.”

“Really? Then how come you’re the one making the call? Where’s your king, Odin? Or the prince, Thor?”

“We were being attacked,” Heimdall gritted his teeth and frowned in frustration, flush starting to creep up to his face due to embarrassment of his incompetency. “His majesty Odin suffers a severe injury from the attack and is in a deep sleep. Prince Thor decides to fight with our remaining army, despite my effort to hold him back and keep him safe.”

“Sounds like quite a party over there.”

“For that very reason, Stark, we-…”

“Heimdall. Heimdall,” Tony showed him his index finger, silencing him with a simple sign that couldn’t lead to anything good. Tony saw Heimdall’s face hardened, like he knew already what the answer Tony would give to him. “I’m sorry for your loss, I really am. But really… This invention? The Hulkbuster Mark II? Prehensile Suit Mark XLII? Igor Mark XXXVIII? I’d hate to say this, but… This is way above what Argard could offer.”

The statement did little to shake Heimdall’s composure. This caught Tony’s attention because for all he knew, the guy he faced right now had another card up his sleeve. One set of a Full House that could totally win his heart. “I understand, as what you said is undeniable,” Heimdall straightened his posture; his face contorted slightly and made him looked a bit guilty. “Which is why I decided to offer you something your heart desires.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. This man had got to be kidding. There was no such thing that Tony Stark wanted that he couldn’t get by himself, aside from that certain inheritance thing with Loki. But he really doubted that Heimdall could give him much help for this matter. “You do realize what you’re talking about, right? This is not you drunk talking, yes?”

“I’m perfectly sober. As you’ve known, my eyes… can see a lot of things. I could see across time and space-…”

“Yeah, yeah… Can you make it short? I have to be somewhere in five minutes. So what, you can see Loki’s account’s password? Because really, I doubt that’d help me.”

“I see a recurrence,” Heimdall stated it straight to the point.

“A recurrence?” Tony laughed and shook his head, wiping the stray tear that rolled down from the corner of his closed eyes. “I’ve done the counting, mister. It’ll take another 6 millennia before my dear mother has her turn for a recurrence.”

“It’s not your mother, Stark,” Heimdall didn’t lose his cool and Tony faltered. His eyes went wide and his laughter died in his throat. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. “I see your brother. The young Christoph Storm.”

Impossible.

Tony swung his arm sideways and holographic data and charts surrounded him almost immediately. He had done the counting and his prediction never missed. The moment his mother and younger brother’s breathed their last (basically, when they died) he put the whole number into his machine and worked his magic. His mother’s age served her a longer time in the waiting list, but his brother? Tony knew Christoph died in quite a young age, hadn’t even reached his 5th millennium, and that meant his recurrence would happen quite soon.

But for it to happen so soon…?

His prediction told him Christoph had about another hundreds years before he awaken. If what Heimdall told him was true, then his brain and intelligence had failed him. But the thought only sent him wave after wave of joy. This was exactly what he needed.

“Where is he?” Tony set his projections aside and focused his attention on Heimdall who was chewing his lower lip in regret. It was too late for the man to back down now after letting such an important info slipped; it was now or never and Tony decided now was a better choice.

Heimdall was doing this for his world, for his people, and he was willing to make a sacrifice, even if he the consequence might kill him later. “A small planet in the Solar System. One of young Christoph’s inheritance, now part of Loki’s possession,” he drew a sharp breath and spelled the word bitterly. “Earth.”

“Excellent,” Tony clasped his hands and stood up. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Heimdall. I’ll have Pepper take care of your request and even add a little bonus, free of charge,” he smiled like a hunter ready to devour his huge prey. “But… If you lied to me… let’s just say, I’m lending you a bomb that could explode if you press the wrong button. Take care, my dear friend,” with that, he flicked his fingers and the holograph of Heimdall faded.

“Master Stark?” Pepper eyed him curiously, waiting for his command in every breath she took. She appeared to be so tense and Tony’s now light mood nudged him to let her have it easy for now. She deserved it for being such a good secretary, after all.

“Just call me Tony, Pepper my dear,” Tony grinned and looped his hand around Pepper’s shoulder. “Give Heimdall what he needs and also sent an extra Prehensile Suit Mark XLII for _his highness the prince_ Thor. Oh, and have Rhodey aid them in the battle for now, give him the War Machine and debrief him well before launch.”

“… Right away, Tony,” Pepper’s confusion showed on her face but she contained it and saved her question all for herself. She bowed at Tony and walked out of the room, letting the door slid close right after she left. The silence drowned the whole space as Tony stood alone in the middle of his stage.

Tony grinned and rubbed his forehead lightly, shoulder shaking as he tried to hold his laughter back. He couldn’t believe his luck. The strain and anger he felt from the previous incident with Loki were gone without a trace, being replaced by limitless possibility of ways to kick the crown off Loki’s head. For his _beloved_ brother to have his recurrence now of all time… Magnificent.

But no, Tony couldn’t let his guard down just yet.

Just because Christoph was back didn’t mean his plan would just come along smoothly. There were too many factors to consider. How long had it been since Christoph being reborn? What form was he trapped in in this cycle of life? What was his upbringing? Knowledge? Culture? Because obviously Tony doubted the young Christoph would be more than a burden if he came even _younger_ , like, a baby for example? What could a freaking baby do aside from crying his word out?

“JARV,” Tony tapped his chin and tested his luck. The sooner he did this the better, before his siblings heard of such news. He doubted Heimdall would just waltz around and dialed Loki or Natasha just to gossip about their baby brother, but it didn’t mean he was in the safe zone. “Solar System, Earth. Scan the planet and look for any being that shared the same soul resonance as Christoph.”

“Scanning, Sir,” JARVIS replied obediently and lights filled the room as the AI visualized his progress. Tony whistled when he saw the planet Heimdall had mentioned. He got to say, it was beautiful and rich of life sources. When the time came, the planet would be a real presentation of heaven for harvesting. Tony pouted in jealousy; Loki just had to get this one in his possession. But not for long, though.

Not for long.

Time passed by, minutes turned into hour. Tony frowned and scratched the back of his head, ruined the style of his hair in process. Earth held lives more than what he had expected, it was turning into a menace. “How much longer, JARVIS?” it shouldn’t be that hard to find just one guy-… or girl, for all he knew his brother might become his sister this time around. He wouldn’t complain for the sudden change, though; might as well appreciate the present from the Mother Nature.

“Scan complete, Sir.”

“It is?” Tony blinked rapidly. “Show me.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. There he was, the precious little brother he loved and loathed. There had been some changes but Tony wouldn’t mistake him for other. With a glint of mischievousness gleaming in his eyes and smirk decorated his well-sculpted face, Tony turned around and opened a new communication line. It was time for him to deploy his one-man army for this once in a lifetime mission.

“I have a job for you.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
